A note: "italics" are personal thoughts, ":italics:" are thought-speak.
Prometheus
By Elisia
Prologue
An exhausted silence lurked in a dusty, paper filled newsroom. Light from the flashing neon sign across the street seeped through the window. Shadows hid in the corners of the room, not quite strong enough to brave the week light that flickered on and off. File cabinets and stacks of old newspapers hugged the walls, surrounding two men who sat opposite each other on aluminum folding chairs. They stared at one another with utmost concentration across a rubber-topped table. Perched uncomfortably on his metal chair, a tired looking reporter studied the restless young man before him, his first and only source of information on the enigmatic corporation known as the Prometheus Foundation.
The reporter's coworkers would have been shocked to find out that he had finally managed to get the dirt on one of the largest scientific research facilities in Japan. No one, no one, knew what exactly the prestigious Foundation researched. Scientists who worked there were almost alarmingly tight lipped, and all possible sources thus far had turned out to be false. But the reporter's scoop finding instincts told him that this time it was different. This man knew something. And praise God, he was talking.
Chewing his lip with anticipation, professional gossip set a tape recorder on the table and pushed play with an audible 'click.'
"Let's get started. Now, what kind of research is this Foundation of yours doing?"
"First of all, it is not 'my' foundation. I do not wish to be associated with the Prometheus Foundation, or its employees, in any way."
"Alright." The reporter leaned back in his chair. "So what are they working on up there? Cloning? Nuclear weapons?"
"To put it simply, human psychic force."
"Excuse me?"
"The scientists of the Prometheus Foundation study and measure the amounts of psychic energy that human beings emit. Think of it as…mental power. By using test subjects from several different backgrounds, the Foundation seeks to uncover the secrets of man's psychic ability."
"Are you joking?"
"No."
"It seems a little...farfetched."
"So did cloning a few years ago. According to the scientists and researchers of the Prometheus Foundation, the roles of society are completely based on psychic levels."
"Wait a minute, did you say 'psychic levels?'"
"Yes. According to current Foundation studies, every person is born with the capacity for a certain amount of psychic energy. Each mature human has his own unchanging Human Psychic Force, or HPF, level. There are many different levels, from minimal psychic power to the extreme. An average placement on the HPF scale is 110. Any individuals that register higher than 190 HPF are referred to as 'psychics'."
"I'm guessing that it's impossible to tell the psychics from the rest of us."
"The psychics are the rest of us. There is no real difference between someone with a 100 HPF and a 200 HPF, except for the pure potential. According to Foundation studies, the average human being is drawn to others of the same HPF level. On the other hand, people tend to dislike individuals with a much higher or lower HPF. The Foundation researchers have found that social interactions between humans are based entirely on psychic energy levels. Who your friends are, the women you are attracted to, whether you like your boss or not, its all determined, in part, by your HPF level."
"I find that hard to believe."
"Believe what you want. I have study and research printouts, as well as other documents, if you would like to see them."
"Yes, I would very much like to see them." A grubby manila envelope exchanged hands and the reporter's muddy eyes widened in shock as he shuffled through the papers within.
"One of the top scientists, Dr. Yoshitomo Sugimoto, discovered that through certain…mental stimulations…he could mold the psychic force of psychics of jenus level to..."
"Hold it, 'jenus?'"
"Hm. Think 'genius' in IQ terms. Basically, someone with a 220 HPF or higher. Jenus psychics are all Sugimoto is interested in. He could care less for the 'lower psychics,' because they don't have enough psychic force to make any use of."
"How...exactly...does he 'make use' of them?"
"You've seen sci-fi movies. You've heard of telepaths. Mind readers. You've heard tales of people moving objects with their thoughts, of people who are able to see the future. If you are really familiar with the subject, you've also heard of pyrokinesis, empathy, and telempathy. These things do exist outside of make-believe. However, it takes massive amounts of psionic energy to fuel these 'powers.'"
The newsman slowly shook his head back and forth. "How does this...Sugimoto...do this?"
"I'm not entirely sure how he does it. He likes to call it 'stabilizing.' To make it seem as if what he does to them is actually for their own good."
"Its not?"
"No. The experience is quite..." the source shuddered a bit, shook his head and changed the subject.
"He creates these 'psionic warriors', as he calls them," the scruffy young man snorted, "and uses them to his own gain, which is often illegal."
"Doesn't he have higher ups? A boss, or something?"
"He used to. His psychics took care of them. He now controls the Prometheus Foundation from the very top, and few of his researchers even know of his 'after hour' activities."
"Why do all these psychics work for him so eagerly? Do they get a cut?"
The reporter's source tapped his fingers on the cold table nervously. He threw a quick glance around the room and shifted closer to the older man as if he planned to tell him a wonderful secret.
"Do you smoke? I could really use a cigarette right now."
"Sure, here you go."
Absently brushing a strand of dark hair behind one ear and placing the unlit cigarette in his lips, the young man asked, "Got a light?"
"Here."
He puffed on his cigarette for a few moments before sighing and continuing with his explanations. "The psychics don't work for him willingly, at least, not in most cases."
"Then why...?"
"Let's get to that subject later."
The reporter blinked a few times and made a mental note to bring up that topic later on. "Alright. You said that most of the psychics are unwilling. Meaning that they're held against their will. Has there ever been any escapes from the facility?"
"Only twice, that I know of. Security is very tight. Two years ago, when Sugimoto was first beginning his research, he secured and 'stabilized' four individuals of extreme psychic ability. I don't know the details. All I know is that they were from very different backgrounds, and were mostly my age."
The reporter carefully examined his source. Asian, definitely; the newsman's first guess was Chinese. The young man could not have had more than twenty-two years at the very most, though his tired eyes said different. He seemed to have a high-strung nature, constantly fidgeting and looking over his shoulder. At best, he looked like a flaky con man trying to make a few bucks selling a bizarre story to some gullible reporter.
Two things stood in his defense. The fact that he was not asking for money, and the contents of that manila envelope.
The nameless young man continued. "Sugimoto planned on making the ultimate 'psychic force'. You see, he and his scientists had recently discovered that people of unusually high psychic ability work extremely well in quads. That is, groups of four. He wanted to use these four young men as his psionic elite. The Alpha Quad, he called them." He shook his head violently and sneered at his cigarette. "It didn't work out quite as he planned."
The young man paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts, and the reporter shifted uncomfortably on his hard seat.
"There was a telekinetic, capable of moving objects, even people, with his mind alone. I have also heard that, of the four, he was the youngest. Barely more that a child. Then there was the telepath who could pluck your thoughts from the air and throw them back in your face. Which he often did, I'm told. Oddly enough, that one gained an extra skill, one Sugimoto and his horde of scientists have been unable to duplicate."
"And that is?"
"He moved with blinding speed, so fast that it was impossible for even your eyes to follow him. Probably some form of telekinesis or teleportation ability. The third was the pre-cog."
"Pre-cog?"
"It's a technical term for someone who can see the future. An oracle, if you will. Sugimoto found this to be the most difficult aspect of psionics to create. As a result, the pre-cog's abilities were nowhere near as successful as those of the telepath or the telekinetic. He could read the future and, sometimes, make decisions accordingly to change it. But he was never able to choose when he received his visions, or what they were of."
The source suddenly looked mildly ill and seemed reluctant to go on.
"And the fourth?"
"The fourth. The fourth was what all of Sugimoto's psychics wish to never be. A failure. From what I hear, the boy was already bonkers. The experience of 'stabilization' only drove him to further insanity. Not that Sugimoto minded. Encouraged it, in fact. The more insane they are, the easier it is to control them. I don't know what those scientists planned for that fourth boy, but despite several attempts, he never showed the desired affects."
"Wow. That must have sucked for the psychic."
"You have no idea. These four, three of Sugimoto's greatest achievements and his only failure, banded against him and managed to escape. Sugimoto has never succeeded in recapturing his experiments, but not for lack of trying, that's for sure. It's assumed that these escaped psychics have stayed in their original quad, for once one has formed it is difficult to break them up. Their location is unknown, but the Foundation will do anything, and I mean anything, to get them back."
The reporter sat for a moment in silence while he formed his next question.
"How many of these…'psionic warriors' does the Foundation control?"
"Heh, control is the right word. Aside from their groundbreaking research in HPF and 'supernatural' powers, Foundation scientists have also made great headway in the field of mind control. Since the escape of the Alpha Quad, Sugimoto has been tightening his security by attempting to obtain complete control over his psychics. He currently uses a combination of hypnosis-like mind control, DNA adjustments and computer chips."
"Computer chips?"
"Yep, though only in extreme cases. Normally, the threat of being thrown to the Readers," his mouth twisted distastefully around the word, "is more than reason enough to stay loyal."
"Readers?"
"They have been designed to absorb psychic power as well as assist in the acquisition of psychics."
"Designed?"
"What are you, an echo? Is everything out of your mouth a question?"
"I'm a reporter. Questions are my job."
"Right."
The source took a long drag on his cigarette.
"Yes, Readers are designed. They were used to locate and track viable and powerful psychics. Now, they are mostly used to kidnap children. Though a simple trip to the local school will often bring back a few jenus psychics..."
"Children?" The reporter sat up suddenly, "What on earth does the Foundation want children for?"
The dark haired man avoided the reporter's eyes.
"Small children have massive amounts of psychic energy. In most cases, their HPF lowers as they age, reaching their permanent HPF level at about sixteen, depending on how quickly the subject matures. Readers, originally created for the sole purpose of 'harvesting' strong psychics, were once children. By warping a child's DNA and greatly manipulating their psychic force, an unintelligent, hideously inhuman creature is created that is capable of both gauging HPF levels accurately and emitting an extremely powerful burst of psychic energy to kill or immobilize its victims."
"My God."
"However, their altered genetic state causes rapid aging, so Readers lose their psionic power and die about three months after they are created. Therefore, 'new blood' is needed to fill out the ranks."
The newsman pulled a stained cloth from his shirt pocket and wiped a few beads of sweat from face. "You mentioned a connection between small children and jenus psychics...?"
"Yes. As I said before, the original purpose of the Readers was to locate and obtain psychics with a high HPF count. As I also mentioned earlier, individuals with matching levels of psychic ability are drawn together. Oddly enough, even though child HPF counts are very high, often reaching the 230's in the younger ones, only about a fourth of the Foundation's test subject jenus psychics were noticeably drawn to children. Researchers discovered that people holding jobs that involve children, like a teacher, a football coach, or an ice cream man, are often jenus level psychics. Because of this, it is often easy to locate powerful psychics through their association with children."
"But I thought you said only a fourth..."
"True, but it is very rare to find a lone jenus psychic. The higher the HPF level, the more dependent an individual is on his, or her, comrades. That is the reason for the quads. Despite what he or she might tell themselves, a lone jenus psychic is terribly uneasy. Find one, and he will surely lead you to others."
The reporter's source stood and walked to a nearby file cabinet. He dropped his cigarette on the concrete floor and methodically rubbed the butt out with the toe of his shoe. He stared at the blinking neon sign for a few moments, deep in his own thoughts. Suddenly, he cocked head as if he had heard a silent noise, and his eyes went vacant. Paling, he turned to the older man.
"This interview is over."
Desperate to get more information, the reporter wracked his brain for any question that might keep his visibly upset informant in the room longer.
"Wait! Before, you said there were two escapes from the Foundation, but you only told me of one. Who was the other?"
The young man said absentmindedly, "That would be me."
"You...you're a...?"
"I wish you luck, and I pray that you survive to print your story."
Turning quickly on his heel, the reporter's only source fled from the room.
Stunned by the sudden departure of his last link to the Prometheus Foundation, the reporter sat for a few moments listening to the wind before he turned off the recorder. He picked up the manila envelope and began to take notes. It was going to be tough to decide how much information to put into the first story. His pencil paused.
"What a story," he murmured, "if its true..."
He shook his head is disbelief.
Would the newspaper even let him print the story? If it were on word of mouth alone, almost certainly not. His editor would tell him to go feed his story to one of the supermarket tabloids. Such a tale was suited better for those gossip columns anyway. If it wasn't for that envelope full of documents...
I suppose its possible that this is an elaborate hoax, but somehow that just doesn't sit right...
His thoughts were interrupted by the sinister whisper of a child.
:he is not here, not here:
The soundless voice seemed to echo around the room. Terror surged into the reporter's gut and he clutched the chair in utter panic. His eyes bulged and he prayed for a miracle.
:gone, yesss, gone:
Oh God help me...
:one there, there is:
:not the one:
:no, not him not him:
Oh, God, he thought, bile stinging the back of his throat, OH GOD its true...these are...these are Readers...
:he knows us:
:we cannot be known:
The horrified man felt feather-soft touches at the edges of his mind. Please, don't...he thought desperately.
:do:
With a shredding sensation that left his body rigid, the unlucky reporter's whole existence was ripped from his body and mentally devoured by empty, ravenous minds. He didn't even have the strength to draw a breath to scream, and was dead before he touched the floor.
There was complete silence for a few moments save for the soft creaking of the run down ceiling fan. A skinny, angular shape drifted across the dark room with a faint clicking noise. It peered at the dented tape recorder, then grasped it and crushed it in one bony hand. Lifting the remains to its mouth, it daintily sank its teeth into the unraveling cassette tape and crunched it thoughtfully.
Another form skittered in, seemingly from out of thin air, and leapt with wobbly grace onto the tabletop, where it carefully shredded the scattered papers with clumsy demi-human hands. Finished, it turned to its companion and chirped lovingly.
:no:
:we cannot be known:
~Owari~
Chapter One will come out sooner or later, I hope. Maybe I'll see you then? *gives you a cookie* Toodles! ^_^